“What is that?” I ask as I stared down at our knees. “That electricity I feel whenever I’m around you? What is it? Does it have anything to do with this?”

He plays with my hair, twisting a strand around his finger. “I have no idea what causes it. I really don’t.”

I shoot him a look. “You have no idea what it is? At all. Or, are you just omitting the truth, as you so nicely put it.”

He rolls his tongue to keep from smiling at me as he releases my hair. “Nope. I’ve never felt anything like it until you came along.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I mutter, combing my fingers through my hair to smooth it back into place. “Until the first time I met you at the school... that day you let the door slam in my face… but even when I ran into you at Marco and Sophia’s house, I felt something.”

He pulls a guilty face, but then he seems surprised. “Really? That was the first time you felt it? Ever?”

“Yes, why do you look so surprised?” I ask. “You just said the same thing.”

“Because you’re different,” he says and I frown. He kicks his boots up on the table and crosses his legs. “I’ll get to why, but give me a minute. I have to finish explaining the portal story, because it’s kind of like background information.”

“To what?”

“To you… but back to the portal because you need to kind of understand that part before I go anywhere else with it.” He pauses and I’m pretty sure he’s holding his breath. “If it opens up, it'll let millions of Death Walkers out and you’ve seen what they can do, so I’m sure you can guess how that would end the world.”

I place my hand on the arm of the sofa and bring my knee up onto the couch as colorful images flash through my mind, little pieces of memories clipping together, forming a story.

The ground is an ice-rink, the buildings are tall statues, and the sky ripples with clouds that shower down a heavy snowstorm. In the distance, there is light—fire—and when it mixes with the snow, there is nothing but chaos.

“By ice,” I whisper as the images shatter into pieces and dissolve.

His phone beeps and he glances at the screen. “Exactly.” He scrolls through his screen and hammers his fingers against a few buttons, seeming preoccupied, yet he continues on with his story. “There’s this guy named Demetrius, who’s the leader of all the Death Walkers, and he wants this portal to open. Basically, the fallen star is the only thing that has enough power to keep the portal from opening.”

“Do you still have the star?” I wonder and then raise my hands in front of me. “And, I’m only asking that question out of curiosity. I’m still not sure if I one-hundred percent believe what you’re telling me.”

His gaze rises from his phone and there is a look in his eyes that I don’t like. “Yeah, we still have it. We kept it hidden so Demetrius couldn’t find it. For the first few years after the Keepers found it, we had a Shifter transfer the star’s energy into different objects to keep its location a constant secret.” He stops. “Do I need to slow down? You look lost.”

I shake my head. “Kind of lost. Kind of overwhelmed. But you can go on.”

“Okay, but a warning, the next part is going to be very hard for you to hear.” He glances down at his hands, and then turns them over, so his palms are facing the floor, and he looks vexed. “Just try to stay calm, okay?”

It feels like thorns have veined their way through my stomach and are poking at my insides. “I’ll try.”

He sucks in a deep breath and takes my hand in his. He traces his finger along the scar on my palm gently and it makes me feel a little bit better at the moment. “An accident happened a few years after we found the star. Theron, the Shifter I told you about, was attacked by Demetrius while in possession of the object that was holding the star’s energy and, during a moment of panic, he accidently placed the power into a… woman.”

My heart thumps inside my chest, like a drum, beating louder and louder. “What happened to her?”

“Nothing. The energy didn’t end up in her.” His hand tightens around mine. “She was pregnant when it happened and it ended up going into her unborn child.”

My heart thumps and thumps and I can barely hear the stale calmness in my voice. “Then, what happened to the baby?”

“She lived, but the star’s energy is still trapped inside her. For some reason—and no one knows for sure, because no one has ever come across anything like it before—no Shifter could transfer it out of her.” He presses his lips together as my heart roars inside my chest. “A few years after it happened, the mother died, but not because of the star.” He watches me attentively. “She was a Keeper and her name was Jocelyn.”

My heart stops, but I still can’t hear a sound.

Jocelyn was my mother.

And suddenly I understand what has been wrong with me for the last twenty-one years. I’m not crazy.

I am the star.

I’m not sure what to do with this information. My brain is in overdrive, racing with different solutions trying to make it so it can’t be possible, but it all comes down to a list of things.

The dreams.

The monsters.

The mirages.

The weird images always popping up in my brain.

The detachment from the world.

My lack of emotions.

They all seem unreal and so does a star’s energy being inside me. Put them together and they make sense. I come to the conclusion that he’s telling the truth and I do what anyone would have done.

I run away from the painful truth because it’s just too much to take.

Chapter 9

My legs carry me across the room, my lungs fight against the ache from the stitches. I make it to the door before his long arms wrap around my waist. He’s careful not to touch my stitches as he strengthens his hold and drags me backwards.

“Let go of me!” I shout as I throw all my weight forward, but he’s stronger than the average person. He puts no effort into his movements as he picks me up until my feet are off the floor and then carries me back to the couch. He sets me down and when I try to get right back up, he thrusts his hand out and shoves me back down.

“Calm down,” he orders. “You’re going to tear those stitches open.”

My chest heaves as I breathe furiously. “I don’t care. It wouldn’t hurt any more than what’s happening on the inside.”

He looks at me with sympathy. “I understand you’re probably upset, but I—”

“I’m not upset,” I cut him off. “I’m content, which is frightening, because I know what you said is the truth and I don’t want it to be. I wanted it to be something else; something that can be cured with a pill or something.”

He looks helpless, eyes wide and his lips still. The clock ticks back and forth, back and forth. I don’t know what to say or what to do with myself. My entire life, I’ve had a star’s energy inside me. A fucking piece of a star. I’m probably not even human.

“What am I?” I ask. My voice sounds detached.

“What are you?” Alex asks, looking at me bewilderedly as he sinks down on the couch beside me. He places a hand on the back of the couch, rotates sideways and traps me in place. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, I can’t be human,” I say, my eyebrows knitting. “I mean, nothing about me has really been human, has it? And having a star inside me… That can’t be human.”

“You’re human,” he assures me and takes my hand in his. He grazes his finger across the inside of my wrist. A few months ago I would have felt nothing, but now it brings me a little comfort in the sea of absurdity I’ve been thrown into. “You’re just a human with a lot of power.”

I can feel that power through his touch and it’s making me nauseous. I ease my hand away from his, but he grabs ahold of it again and guides me closer until I’m pretty much sitting on his lap.

“Look, I know this all sounds crazy,” he begins with a look of determination as he puts his hands domineeringly on my hips. He lifts me up and sets me down on his lap, so my legs are on either side of him. “And I understand that you’re probably scared shitless, but there’s more stuff I have to tell you.”

My eyes roll to the ceiling as I fight back the tears. “How can there be more… I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Yes, you can. You’re a lot tougher than you know,” he says and I lower my head to see if he’s being serious. His gaze never wavers as I study him. “But here’s the thing. If you don’t want to hear it—if you want to be left in the dark for the rest of your life—then you need to tell me. If you want me to stop, then I will.”

“I’ve been left in the dark for most of my life.” It isn’t really a question, but he nods anyway. I take a deep breath and whisper, “Tell me then.”

He nods, gripping onto my hips like he thinks I’m going to try and flee again. “The Keepers lucked out because Demetrius never discovered the location of the star’s power, but when you were born, a Foreseer told Stephan that if your emotions weren’t controlled, then the power of the star would weaken and eventually die, along with the world. So, to stop that from happening, Stephan made the decision for you to go live with Marco and Sophia in the real world.”

“How old was I when I went to live with them?” I utter softly. “Because I was told one, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe I was a little older.”

“No, you were one,” he replies in a flat tone. “And they were under strict orders to make sure you stayed unemotional.”

I hit an eerie calm—an ’unemotional’ calm. I was made to be this way—to be dead inside. To live a life of solitude. All those mind-numbing years alone, without a friend, never speaking unless a question was directed to me. It was all done on purpose? A lump builds in my throat, blocking my airway. I can’t breathe.

“Gemma,” he says with concern. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I suck in a sharp breath and force the lump down. “How did they do it? How did Marco and Sophia make me unemotional?”

His eyes wander over my shoulder. “I was always told that it was because they gave you as little physical contact as possible. Isolation. If someone doesn’t ever know happiness, sadness, or love, then how can they ever feel it? Right?”

“Are you lying to me?” I lean to the side and he stares down at the floor behind me. “You can’t even look at me.”

“I’m not lying, Gemma.” He looks at me guardedly. “I’m just telling you what I know, which isn’t everything.”

“Yes, you are,” I assert, fighting down my anger; fearing if I release it, the consequences will be irreversible, especially if I end up punching him. I start to get up, but his arms wind tighter as he wrestles me down onto his lap and crushes my chest against his.